Time Masters Book One; The Call (An Urban Fantasy, Time Travel Romance) (25 page)

The grizzled old Scot moaned banefully and huddled farther into the corner.

“You are happy to see me, yes?” Kwaku chortled as he looked for a suitable spot to drop his baggage—namely, Dallan. He brightened as he saw what he was looking for, and unceremoniously dumped him,
still unconscious, onto the fl
oor near a window with a loud thud.

Angus closed his eyes, not wanting to see what remained of his fellow countryman, if anything.

“Mo-dar!” Kwaku bellowed happily at Mother MacNab.

Angus’s mother peered up at him through her thick glasses and loudly passed wind.

“Well, I see Mother is still having the same little health problem as on our last visit,” Lany commented dryly as he came through the doorway Zara had created at her husband’s command. He glanced at Angus who still had his eyes tightly shut.

“Might as well open them, Angus. Kwaku’s still here.” He turned to t
he large heap of Scot on the fl
oor with a look of annoyance. “Living stars, Kwaku, there
are
beds in this house.”

 
Kwaku merely chuckled in response.

Angus opened an eye experimentally, grimaced at Kwaku, and then opened the other eye to see what remained of his living room. Not much
;
half was still there, the other half was the southeastern side of Genis Lee.
A man he’d never formally met, yet expected, stood in the warm sunshine looking very reluctant.

“Hurry, Lord Councilor. My pretty one tires,” Kwaku laughed as he began to walk toward the time doorway.

John Eaton took a deep breath and stepped into the living room. Zara, her strength nearly gone, followed.

“My beloved,” Kwaku spoke concerned as he rushed to her side, catching her before she could fall and immediately spoke to her in Azurti.

“Is she all right?” Lany asked, worry in his own voice.

Kwaku scooped his wife up in his arms and headed for a tiny hallway near the front door as Genis Lee faded from sight. “She is tired. I will take care of her.” He disappeared into one of the bedrooms.

“How about you, Eaton? You okay?”

John looked sheepishly at his assistant. “Fine.”

“First time through did the same to me, too. Second time’s not so bad.” Lany bent to
Dallan,
took one of his wrists and checked for any sign of a pulse as Kwaku reentered the room.

Angus wat
ched Lany, an odd look of confi
rmation forming on his face, and nodded to himself. “Kilt him already, have ye?” He muttered to Kwaku. “Hmmph! Knew he wouldn’t last!” Disgusted, he headed for the kitchen.

“Kwaku,” John began. “I want to get started immediately. Is Zara all right? Will she be able to come with us?”

Kwaku chuckled as he looked around the apartment expectantly. “We do not need her as yet, Lord Councilor. She needs to rest for now. I will not allow her out. Too dangerous.” He made a direct path for a small china cabinet tucked in a corner near the TV.

“Dangerous?
What do you mean, dangerous?”

Kwaku opene
d the cabinet and began to rifl
e through the mismatched assortment of plates, cups, bowls and odd collectables, obviously searching for something. “She is not strong enough now to help us tonight. Or tomorrow.” He turned to John, a triumphant look on his face as he pulled out a long tin candy box and took off the lid.

“When will she be ready?” John asked, ignoring the sweet smells coming from the box.

“After she has been,” Kwaku popped a la
rge piece of chocolate into his
mouth. He chewed slowly, relishing the taste before giving John a wink.
“Well fed,” he fi
nished and laughed.

“Fed!” Angus hobbled in from the kitchen. “Not in my house, ye disgusting heathen!”

Kwaku began to laugh heartily, enjoying the little man’s discomfort.

Lany stood, and ignoring Kwaku, grabbed a piece of chocolate out of the box still in the
Azurti’s
hand, never once taking his eyes off Dallan. “What
did
you give him, Kwaku?”

“The Maiden, Angus is she safe?” John’s voice was urgent.

Angus, remembering his manners, bowed slightly to him in a more formal greeting. “Aye, Lord John, she’s safe. My Tomy keeps a good eye on her.”

“Tomy? Who’s Tomy?” John absently reached for the candy tin, stepping in front of the TV as he did so.

“Bloody
Sassenach!
Yer blocking the box!” Mother MacNab screamed at him. A cane appeared out of nowhere and met John squarely in the knee.

“
Ow
!”

“Oh, sorry, Eaton. I forgot to warn you. Don’t stand in front of the box.” Lany advised
,
eyes still glued to Dallan, his mouth half full of candy.

John sidestepped well out of the cane’s reach. “Who’s Tomy?”

“She takes care o’ me mother every other day. I
gots
her a
job as tutor in the Maiden’s house. Got tired of sneaking around there all the time—neighbors kept reporting me. I didna think it wise to get
meself
labeled a peeping Tom. So I use the lass.”

John blanched. “Does she know anything?”

“Dinna worry, Lord John. Master Lany checked her out on his last visit here. The
lass knows
nothing. I ask her how her week went, and she tells me all the
goins
’ on. Get a lot more information this way, more than when I was a-peeping through the Maiden’s windows.”

John grimaced as he rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Peeping through her windows?”

“Everything’s fi
ne, Eaton.” Lany bent over Dallan again and pried one eye open. He shook his head in annoyance. “He’s really out, Kwaku. Are you sure you didn’t give him too much?”

“Where is the Maiden now?” John asked no one in particular.

“’Tis Sunday, she should be home
wi
’ her folk.” Angus joined Lany next to Dallan.

“And tomorrow?” John now asked, noticing
the unconscious form on the floor for the fi
rst time.

“She’ll be going out tomorrow night with my Tomy. I have the name o’ the,
weel
, inn, I guess
ye’d
call it.
Sort of.
Tuesday, they
be
at the library.” Angus poked at his younger countryman. “Big fellow, isn’t he?”

Lany nodded. “Among other things, yes.” He turned and looked at Kwaku who was popping the last piece of candy into his mouth. “He
is
going to wake up sometime this week, right?”

 
Kwaku began to laugh. “He will wake soon enough,
Mos
-go-fi -an. In fact, he will wake very soon. De drug is s
trong, yes. But it is short eff
ect.”

Dallan moaned.

“Ha! See? What I tell you?”

Angus snorted. “Aye, he’ll wake up. Then what are we
to do
wi
’ him? I remember wakin
g up once too!” He glared at Kwaku. “Remember?”

“Diff
erent circumstances, littl
e bro-dar! De Boyeee will be fi
ne. He is made of good
stuff !
”

“Maybe so, but I’ll take no chances just the same.” Angus grumbled as he slowly got to his feet and headed for the kitchen.

“When will he be fi
t enough to take out?” John asked as he took the spot Angus had recently occupied.

“He will be fi
ne by tonight, Lord Councilor. We should not hurry him. De Maiden needs time to sense he is near. Her heart will den waken.”

Dallan groaned again, louder this time.

“Turn off the radiator!” Mother MacNab yelled.

Angus returned from the kitchen, a large frying pan in one hand. “That’s not the radiator, Mother.”

Mother looke
d at the pile of Scot on the fl
oor and snorted. “Who made that mess? I’m not cleaning it up! Who made it?”

Everyone but Mother looked at Kwaku.

Dallan grunted, turned from his back onto his stomach, managed to push himself up a few inc
hes with his arms… then fell fl
at on his face.

“
Ohhh
, th
at must’ve hurt.” Lany spoke fl
atly.

Angus raised the frying pan and held it like a baseball bat. “He’s no going to break anything when he wakes up, is he? I’m still paying for the damages from that black
de’il’s
last visit!”

“Dallan will
be fine,” John commented confi
dently.

“Maybe so, but I remember how I felt after I woke up in a strange place.” Angus narrowed his eyes at Kwaku, who was trying to look innocent.

Dallan’s body jerked as he groaned again.

Kwaku stepped to where Dallan lay and nudged him with one foot. “Time to get up, Boyeee.”

John and Lany backed away fr
om the now-still form on the fl
oor, both knowing he wouldn’t be still for long.

Dallan coughed, groaned, raised his head slightly and opened one drug-leaden eye. He turned his head to look at Kwaku’s
foot,
moaned aga
in, and let his face hit the fl
oor.

“Yes, well, this is moving right along, isn’t it? Kwaku, next
time halve
the dosage, okay?” Lany suggested. “His face can’t take it.”

“John?”

Everyone looked at the fl
oor.

“I’m right here, Dallan.” John replied, kneeling by the Scot.

Dallan held up his head a
nd pushed his chest from the fl
oor with his forearms, then slowly brought himself up to his knees. He looked at the Venetian blinds in the window in front of him before taking in the rest of his surroundings. Nothing but John seemed to register—the furniture, the people, nothing. He saw it all, but didn’t quite know what any of it was.
His eyes then landed on Kwaku.

The heathen he recognized, and glared accordingly. “I hate you.”

Kwaku laughed. “Look around you, Boyeee. See de help I have for you! Dis is what will get you home!”

Dallan looked around again. He saw John’s compassion-governed face, Lany peering at him over John’s shoulder. A little old man looked ready to lay him out with a huge frying pan. He turned from the sight and noticed a very old woman sitting in a chair with wheels, cane in hand, wearing a huge pair of spectacles on her face. She leaned toward him slightly, as if to get a closer look, and loudly passed wind.

“What do you dink, Boyeee? You will have lots of help capturing de Muiraran for us, yes?”

Dallan teetered slightly before he gave his attention back to Kwaku. “
Ye murdering
… stink… stinking heathen. Where am I?”

Kwaku laughed again. “Look around you, Boyeee. Den
tell
me.”

Dallan let his eyes and ears wander, and suddenly noticed an odd assortment of noises coming from his left near the old woman. His body automatically turned to the sounds. A large box sitting atop a table seemed to be their sou
rce. Dallan fell halfway in the
direction of the woman, his balance still unsteady as he tried to get a closer look.

“Get away from the bloody box!” The woman screamed.

“
Owohhh
!” Dallan didn’t even see the cane coming. It hit him squarely on the back of the head. He threw himself in the opposite direction and crashed against the blinds, bringing them down on top of him.

Kwaku flew into full Azurti guff
aws.

“Dallan, are you all right?” John ran to his side and began to pull the blinds off him. Lany went over to help.

“Ye bloody heathen! I’ll kill ye! I’ve had enough o’ all o’ this!” Dall
an’s arms were fl
ying every which way as he struggled to free himself from the tangled mess.

Face beaming Angus stepped into the melee to hel
p as well. “Ah laddie, I’ve mis
judged ye! Yer words are music to me old ears!”

Dallan ignored him, struggled to his feet and spun on Kwaku, still unsteady. His eyes narrowed, his breathing quickened, muscles tensed. He growled low and bared his teeth.

“Living stars, I think he’s going to try to kill him,” Lany whispered to John.

“Dallan,” John began, “don’t! Calm down! You can’t!”

“Aye, not in my house! Kill him someplace else!” Angus quickly added.

Dallan slowly crouched, preparing for a spring.

Kwaku laughed and charged the Scot so fast no one else had time to react. “Today is not de day, Boyeee!” he grunted as he grabbed Dallan and roughly turned him around to face the now-
uncovered window. “Today you fi
ght dis, not me!”